


Into the Darkness - with Help

by Tara_Moeller_69



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Samulet, Witch - Freeform, pie versus cake
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-04-27 12:33:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5048698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tara_Moeller_69/pseuds/Tara_Moeller_69
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean in a favored diner gets a gift from a stranger - or maybe he knows her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Return of the Samulet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheAuthorGod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAuthorGod/gifts).



> DISCLAIMER: unbeta'd, unedited, unproofed. Not my characters, but they're doing what I tell them to do.
> 
> For TheAuthorGod, this is my version of our "discussion" and brainstorming. Canon compliant to season 11, episode 2.

Dean smiled at the blonde waitress. She'd just refilled his coffee mug and set a very large slice of apple pie in front of him. It was the cook's specialty.  
  
"Enjoy."  
  
"Oh, I will." It had been a while since he'd been at this diner. It was a favorite from childhood. And though there was a part of him that knew it wasn't real, that he was dreaming, even a dream pie made by Miz Madigan would taste delicious.  
  
"Hello, Dean." A woman slid into the booth across from him, a mug of tea in one hand. Dean knew it was tea; the diner served coffee in dark mugs and tea in light ones. Probably helped the staff keep the refills coming without mixing the beverages.  
  
"Uh, hi." The woman was beautiful, and he had trouble focusing on any single feature.  
  
"You need to be more careful."  
  
What? Damn. Did he know this woman? She looked familiar, like he should know her. Was she someone from his past? A conquest? Did he have a kid with her?  
  
He slowed his thoughts down and blinked. He wanted to respond but his voice wouldn't work. His vocal chords were frozen.  
  
The waitress set a large slice of confetti cake in front of the woman, offering up a fresh teabag, as well as a small pot, steam leaking out the little spout.  
  
"Not that kind of careful, Dean. You've been rather exemplary at that, all things considered."  
  
Relieved, Dean took in a gasping breath and nodded. "Good." Shit - who was this woman? Was she a witch? Had Rowena sent her to do even more damage?  
  
"No, I'm not a witch. And you might want to try speaking. Then I won't have to read your thoughts. I'm sure you have some in there you don't want me eavesdropping in on."  
  
Dean swallowed the bit of pie, choking on the cinnamon-sweet apple and sugar-dusted pastry.  
  
"Now, now. Don't ruin your treat. Maybe you should try a bit of cake?" The woman forked off a generous hunk of the cake, making sure the icing was covered with the colorful bits of sugar. "Here."  
  
Obeying without much thought, Dean opened his mouth and took the cake. It was good, not too sweet, and the little candy pieces were still crunchy, like they were supposed to be. "Mmm. Thanks." He took a sip of coffee and nodded, and nodded again. What should he say?  
  
"How about: why are you here? What do you want?"  
  
"Okay." Dean set his mug down and leaned over the table. "Who are you? Why are you here? What do you want?"  
  
"Well, I'm not prepared to answer the first. Really, I don't like ad libbing." The woman shook her head and made off with a hunk of his pie, smacking her lips on the thick secret caramel sauce that made the pie so special. "I'm here to help you. I have something to return to you."  
  
"Return to me?" Dean cleared his throat. "Do I know you?"  
  
"Well, you should. but don't worry. I know you. I know pretty much everyone." She smile and picked up her mug, offering it up to him like a toast. "And maybe you should try some tea, as well as the cake. You might find you like it."  
  
"The cake was good, but I really don't do tea."  
  
The woman nodded and sighed. "I've noticed."  
  
The woman snagged another bite of his pie and Dean didn't stop her. Which was odd. It was pie. The best pie in the world that one could get in a diner. If it was Sam, or evn Cas, sitting across from him stealing his pie, he'd stab them with his own fork.  
  
"Look Dean, there's some nasty stuff you and your brother have to go after now." The woman raised a hand, palm out toward him. "Now, understand this, I don't blame you for it. There are a lot of players in this. Some you haven't even met yet. So all I want is the mess cleaned up. But you're going need some protection."  
  
She reached down to a small gold clutch and opened it, pulling out a thin black leather cord with his amulet dangling from it.  
  
"Here. This protected you for a long time. You've earned it back I think. After all, Sam is still alive."  
  
Dean stared at the amulet. He hadn't seen it in so long, he'd almost forgotten it even existed. He certainly hadn't thought he'd ever see it again. Did this dream mean he was supposed to go find it?  
  
"Where did you find that?"  
  
"I didn't. It found me."  
  
"What?" How could he go find it if he didn't have at least a hint of where to look?  
  
"Here, Dean." The woman stood up and walked around the table, sliding the leather cord around his head and tucking the amulet beneath his shirt. Her fingers were both warm and cool at the same time, and sent little shivers over his skin. She patted the amulet and smiled down at him. "Keep this on. Do not take it off."  
  
"Okay." Dean looked around. The diner was empty; he couldn't even see the waitress.  
  
The woman frowned. "I thought you realized this was a dream?"  
  
"Oh, yeah. I know it's a dream. I'm just surprised I've erased the waitress already."  
  
"Okay." She patted his shoulder and stepped back to her seat. But she didn't sit. She picked up the little clutch and winked at Dean. "Trust your instincts, Dean. They've served you well in the past. And since no one is trying to influence you elsewise right now, you're good to go."  
  
"I am?"  
  
"Yes, you are." The woman smiled and waved and walked to the door, her gold pumps clicking on the linoleum tile. "Enjoy your sweet treat, Dean. You deserve it."  
  
Dean watched the woman leave, her silhouette fading as soon as she was out the door. Alone in the dream diner, he stared at his half-eaten pie and the cake. Picking up his fork, he pulled the plate of cake close and took a large bit onto his fork. The icing was thick and swirling with candy flecks.  
  
It was the best cake he'd ever remembered eating. Too bad it wasn't real.

###

An alarm echoed in Dean's room and he jerked awake, the sweet taste of confetti cake remaining on his tongue. Rolling over, he stretched and thought about the strange dream. He still had no idea who the woman was, and the more he thought about her, the less he remembered. He couldn't describe her - hair color, eye color, even height - to anyone, other than to say she'd been beautiful.  
  
Hadn't she?  
  
Yes, he was certain of that.  
  
Sitting up, he yawned and scratched over his chest, stilling his hand when his fingers brushed against something that shouldn't be there.  
  
His fingers curled around the object, his breath quickening when he came to the full realization of what it was.  
  
It was his amulet. It was back. But how?  
  
The woman had even agreed, it was just a dream.


	2. Sam's Gift is on Hold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A woman comes to visit Sam, but she's not sure what to give him - yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: unbeta'd, unedited, unproofed. Not my characters, but they're doing what I tell them to do.
> 
> For TheAuthorGod, this is my version of our "discussion" and brainstorming. Canon compliant to season 11, episode 2.

"You need a witch."  
  
The whisper in his ear, in a light, lilting voice, nearly made him piss his pants.  
  
Sam whirled in his chair, staring at the woman sitting next to him. "How did you get in here?" He was in the bunker. No one could get in unless someone let them in. He whipped his head back and forth. Had Dean let her in?  
  
"Dean's out buying beer. Don't you remember? He told you twenty minutes ago."  
  
"Yeah, right." Sam shifted away from the woman, his fingers searching under the table for the hidden pistol.  
  
"Looking for this?" The woman held up the gun.  
  
Sam froze and swallowed. So this was the end. He was going to be shot in the bunker and Dean would return with a six-pack of beer and lemon-creme hand pies to find his bloody body dumped over the book he was trying to decipher.  
  
"Don't worry. I took the bullets out." The woman set the revolver on the table and pushed it toward Sam. "I'm not here to kill you, Sam. I just need to know what you need for this little adventure."  
  
"Adventure?" Sam leaned away from the woman, pushing the chair back so that the feet dragged on the floor, the screech of wood on marble making his skin crawl.  
  
"You and Dean have a mess to clean up."  
  
"You mean the Darkness?"  
  
The woman sighed and rolled her eyes. "No, I mean the toilet that hasn't seen bleach in a year. Of course I mean the Darkness."  
  
Sam nodded, inching his fingers toward the gun. Even if it didn't have bullets, he could always knock the woman over the head with it.  
  
"Really, Sam? I thought you were the less violent Winchester brother." The woman crossed her arms and shook her head. "I need to give you something, so help me figure out what it is you need."  
  
"What I need?"  
  
The woman sighed. "What are you doing?"  
  
"Research."  
  
"It's like pulling teeth with you." The woman reached across the table and Sam noticed a silver tea service with a pot and two cups that hadn't been there the last time he looked. "Here, have some tea. It should calm your nerves."  
  
The woman poured two cups of tea, setting one in front of Sam and taking a long sip from the other.  
  
"What kind of research?"  
  
Sam poked the book he'd been trying to read. "It's a book of spells. But I think I need a witch to help me translate. Some of it is older than I know."  
  
"Witches. Why is it always witches? At least with Dean it was just pie and cake."  
  
"What? Pie and cake? What about Dean? I thought he was out getting beer?" Sam jumped to his feet, ready to grab the woman and shake the truth out of her, but something told him not to touch her or he'd really be in trouble.  
  
"Yes, you would be in a great amount of trouble if you did that, Sam." The woman stood herself, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulders. She stared at the pocket on the front of his shirt. "You tall people can be so infuriating."  
  
"What?"  
  
"So, you need a witch that can read this book of spells, eh?"  
  
"Well, yeah. Or a book that-"  
  
"Hmmm. A witch, a witch. But one you can trust. At least, one that I can convince to do the right thing so you can trust her. Without getting nasty. I'm really not up for nasty. I need to save that for later." The woman rounded on Sam, one finger pointing at him so that he flinched. "Not Rowena. That woman can't ever be trusted."  
  
"Well, yeah. Definitely not Rowena. And I'm not sure we can find a witch-"  
  
The woman took in a quick breath and grinned, snapping her fingers and dancing on the spot. "I know just who to get for you. You'll have to trust her, and I know that will be hard but trust me, it will be okay."  
  
"What? Who?" Sam ducked his head and wove his body, trying to catch a glimpse of the woman's face. It was difficult; her features were a vague image, like a camera lens at the wrong distance.  
  
"I can't do it in an instant, mind you, so it might take a couple of days." The woman tapped the book. "Keep working on the parts you understand, yes? That way, when she translates them true, you'll be reassured that you can trust her."  
  
The woman jumped, looking almost giddy with her idea. Sam still had no idea what that was, other than she'd determined some witch that could decipher the text.  
  
"Um, look, I don't know who you are, but-"  
  
"I know. I'm practically unrecognizable in this form. Shame really. Folks have a totally wrong image of me. Patriarchal society and all that."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I could have come as a goat. Do you speak goat? No? How about cat? No, that's a witch thing. No cats." The woman spun around and headed down the stacks of books, not all of them in order after the mess the Steins had made. Some still reeked of gasoline.  
  
The woman wrinkled her nose. "Made a mess didn't they? Shame about the kid, but the others - not so much."  
  
Sam followed her, his mind spinning. How could she possibly know so much of what had happened? He wasn't even sure of the whole story. Dean had been pretty close-mouthed about it, preferring to blame Sam for Charlie's death and leave it at that.  
  
"Your brother wasn't really himself then. Remember that, Sam."  
  
"What? Of course, that's what I keep telling Dean."  
  
"Tell yourself, too, until you believe it with everything in you. That's when Dean will believe it." The woman turned at stared up at Sam, and he stopped breathing at the intensity of it. "Dean needs you to believe it, Sam."  
  
Sam swallowed and nodded. "Um hm, okay."  
  
"Good." The woman nodded and spun back around, marching between the shelves. "It should be here, somewhere. Aha - there it is." The woman tugged on the top of the spine of a thick, heavy tome.  
  
Sam lunged forward. The book looked as big as the woman, there was no way-  
  
The woman held the book easy, flipping it open and rifling through the pages. "Here, you'll need to read over this, too. It's not entirely accurate, but it's mostly right. It will give you the gist of the story anyway." The woman peeked up at Sam.  
  
"Okay, sure." Same took the book. It slipped in his hands from its weight, and he had to catch it against his hip.  
  
"It's secondhand, just like the Bible."  
  
"Right."  
  
The woman smirked. "I need to be off to get your gift. Remember, it may take a couple days. You can bide your time by doing the homework I've provided."  
  
Sam glanced down at the book, slipping a finger between the pages to mark the place until he could record the page number. When he looked back up, the woman was gone.


	3. Charlies from Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting the team together: the brain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: unbeta'd, unedited, unproofed. Not my characters, but they're doing what I tell them to do.
> 
> For TheAuthorGod, this is my version of our "discussion" and brainstorming. Canon compliant to season 11, episode 2.

Charlie stared at the computer screen. The game she was writing the code for -- an elaborate maze and riddle game that kids would just love -- was almost complete.  
  
The satisfaction was hollow though. It didn't really matter if she completed it or not. There would just be another game to work on, and no kids to play the game.  
  
Heaven sucked.  
  
She was stuck in a room, with the best computer in the world, doing the best job in the world, and it mattered to no one.  
  
Not even herself.  
  
She thought she'd be happy coding games, making something people would love to play.  
  
And maybe she would be. If it was real.  
  
But it wasn't.  
  
She slammed her finger down on the enter key, saving the last bit of work she'd completed. It didn't matter, since she had all the time in the world to finish, but she still hated rework.  
  
"Psst."  
  
What the Heaven was that? She was alone in her room. Always alone.  
  
"Psst."  
  
Swiveling in her chair, Charlie stared at the woman that crouched just inside her door.  
  
The woman waved. She was dressed in pale grey jeans, grey combat boots and a white T with a grey overshirt. Sort of like a black and white picture of Dean, but as a girl.  
  
"Come on." The woman's whisper was odd. The sound was low, like a whisper, but clear, like she was speaking. And it was directly in her ear, even though the woman was clearly all the way across the room.  
  
"Come where?" Charlie wasn't stupid. She'd been read the riot rules when she'd arrived.  
  
No traipsing around to other people's Heavens.  
  
No visiting - not even to family and friends. That would be intruding on their Heavens.  
  
No complaining about the Heaven you got. The angels knew what she wanted and were giving it to her.  
  
"You don't want to stay here, do you?" The woman straightened and punched her fists to her hips. "I could hear your thoughts plain as day. You want out."  
  
"Well, yes. But there are rules."  
  
"I thought the saying was that rules were made to be busted up and thrown in the dumpster?"  
  
"There is that saying like that, or similar anyway, but there are angels up here. Powerful angels. I don't want them angry at me."  
  
The woman looked sad. "Yes. I don't much like how these angels are acting. They don't even realize that I'm here."  
  
"In my Heaven?"  
  
"In anyone's Heaven." The woman held out a hand. "Come on. We're running out of time."  
  
"But if they don't even know you're here, does time matter?" Charlie stood without thought, walking toward the woman and taking her outstretched hand.  
  
"Oh, there's plenty of time up here. Not so much on earth."  
  
"On earth?" Charlie leaned toward the woman. She smelled of lavender and cinnamon, and her skin was clear, like cream. "What's happening on earth?"  
  
"The Darkness has been set free."  
  
"The Darkness? What's that?"  
  
"An entity trapped from the beginning of time."  
  
Charlie dragged in a sharp breath. "The beginning of time? That's a very long time."  
  
"Yes. And she's not happy."  
  
"I wouldn't be if I'd been trapped for that long."  
  
The woman sighed. "The darkness didn't like playing by the rules."  
  
"Rules?" But weren't they braking heaven's rules? At her behest?  
  
"Yes. Rules. Rules she helped make. She wanted free, so we set some boundaries. She agreed. Then," the woman waved a hand in the air, "she didn't."  
  
"Oh." Charlie tried to make it sound like she understood, but she had no idea what the woman was talking about. "I see."  
  
"Do you? Your friends need your help."  
  
"My help?"  
  
The woman nodded. "There are always consequences."  
  
Charlie groaned. "What did Dean do now?" She supposed it could have been Sam, but in all likelihood, it was Dean.  
  
"He got rid of the mark of Cain." The woman shook her head. "But there is always a price. And the Winchesters are going to need your help to pay the debt."  
  
"Out of the hot tub and into the fire, huh?" Charlie sighed. "Sounds like my boys."  
  
"Always." The woman tugged on Charlie's hand and opened the door, peeking out and taking a look down each end of the white hall outside. "Coast is clear. We'll have to be quick. They aren't tracking me, but they probably are you."  
  
Keeping tight to the woman's heels, Charlie tip toed down the hall, cringing every time her new sneakers squeaked on the tile. "Sorry."  
  
"Shh." The woman paused at an intersection, listening before peeking around the wall. "Oops."  
  
She ducked back, pushing Charlie back down the hall. "There's a guard. Quick, hide."  
  
Charlie opened the second door she came across and darted into the room beyond. The woman followed, closing the door behind her.  
  
Someone's idea of Heaven: a strip club. And a lone man, bald and overweight, sat entranced by a single dancer.  
  
"This would be a dancer's Hell."  
  
"More like their purgatory." The woman watched, the horror on her face grew the more dancer on the stage moaned and gyrated for her audience of one.  
  
Someone rattled the door.  
  
"Hide." The woman dipped under a table, seeming to blend with the carpet and walls.  
  
Charlie ran to the bar and squatted behind it, holding her breath.  
  
"Hey, you. Anyone come in here?"  
  
"Uh, no. No one's come in."  
  
"You sure?"  
  
"Yup, still just me and my private dancer." The man chuckled at what he thought was a joke.  
  
The door snapped shut and Charlie let out her breath, slow and even to keep the sound to a minimum. She didn't look around the bar, though. She knew how this worked. The angel guard had closed the door and stayed inside the room, waiting to see if anyone popped up.  
  
She hoped the woman knew that, too.  
  
After five minutes, the door opened and closed once again, this time, without as much noise, and Charlie crept up, peering over the counter.  
  
The woman emerged from under the table and nodded at her. "Good thinking."  
  
"I've learned a little in my travels with the Winchesters."  
  
The woman glanced at the man, still staring, oblivious to his visitors. "I wonder if all he does is watch?"  
  
The man pulled out his wallet, stuffed with twenties. He pulled one out and threw it on the stage at the dancer's feet. She smiled and gyrated closer.  
  
"I guess not." Charlie edged toward the door, her eyes fixated on the dancer. "And maybe it's time we got out of here."  
  
"I agree." The woman listened at the door and turned the knob, listening again before opening the door. There was no one outside. She peeked down the hall. "Hurry, the guard just went in another room. If we get around the corner before he comes back out, we should be in the clear."  
  
"Right behind you."  
  
The woman ran out the door, Charlie close behind. They made it around the corner and down that hall, then around another corner.  
  
"I hope you know where you're going."  
  
"They haven't changed the layout that much since the last time I was here. Just imposed more restrictions."  
  
"You've been here before?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"There's no 'of course.' You do this a lot, break people out of Heaven?"  
  
"No. There's never been a need before today."  
  
"But you've been here?"  
  
"Yes. Now shush. We're almost at the portal."  
  
The woman slowed her run to a jog to a walk to a tip toe. She put her hand behind her and waved Charlie to the wall.  
  
Charlie stuck herself to the white stucco, watching the woman for another signal.  
  
"All clear. Let's go."  
  
The woman grabbed her hand and tugged - hard enough that Charlie stumbled into her. It didn't matter though, they were crashing through the portal, the lush green of earth a blur as they smack-landed in the midst of a meadow in full bloom.  
  
"Ow."  
  
"Sorry about that. I made the landing a little harder than it needed to be." The woman stood, brushing grass and petals from her backside. "But, here you are. Hale and hearty and whole."  
  
Charlie stared at her arm. It was there. She squeezed a fist. And it worked. "But how-" She looked up, but the woman had vanished.  
  
She wiggled her fingers and smiled. "At least I have a thumb so I can hitch a ride." Humming, she made her way through the meadow, looking for a strip of asphalt to follow to civilization.


	4. An Itty Bitty W-itch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting the team together: the witch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Sam. Not the help he was expecting.

Charlie read over the codex one more time, checking it against her notes. "I think I have it mostly translated for you - but I'm not sure how much good it will do us. We really need that other book translated."  
  
She'd already helped with the angel history text, and she and Sam had been surprised at how helpful Dean had been.  
  
"Yeah, but neither of us even know where to start."  
  
Tapping the cover, Charlie traced the symbols etched into the cracking leather. "I thought you said the woman was going to get you someone else to help, too?"  
  
"She did - but she said it might take a couple of days."  
  
"Any word from Dean? Has he found Crowley, or at least a lead on him?"  
  
"Word yes. Good word, no. He still has nothing."  
  
Standing, Charlie stretched, loving the feel of having both arms and hands, and something REAL to work on.  
  
Claire emerged from the kitchen, a tray of sandwiches in her hands. "I made lunch."  
  
"Thanks, kiddo." Charlie smiled and looked over the tray. "Looks good."  
  
"You know, I'm not a kid. I'm 18."  
  
"Claire, she didn't mean anything by it." Sam's smile was weak.  
  
"I'm supposed to help." Claire set the tray on the table, the loud thunk announcing just how pissed off she really was.  
  
"I know. But you can't help with this." Sam pressed his fingers into his eyes. "You said the woman told you that Cas would need you when we got the curse off him."  
  
"Yeah. But why is it taking so long?"  
  
"It hasn't been all that long. Not really; just a couple of days since we got back here and found him." Sam picked up a sandwich and took a bite, raising both his brows and the sandwich in thanks.  
  
Claire slumped into a chair at the table. "I feel useless. I'm not sure why I need to be here."  
  
"Hey," Sam put a hand over one of Claire's, "you being here means something. It means you care about Cas, and when the curse is lifted and Cas realizes you've been here waiting for him, it will make a big difference."  
  
"Yeah, yeah." Claire turned her hand and squeezed Sam's. "Thanks."  
  
Charlie selected a sandwich of her own and nibbled on the end. "You're helping us. Letting us focus on what we need to do."  
  
Claire crossed her eyes at Charlie.  
  
Someone pounded on the door.  
  
The three figures at the table froze -- Claire reaching for a sandwich, Charlie with hers at her mouth to take a bite, and Sam with his mouth full.  
  
"Do you think that's Dean with a cure for Cas?" The hope in Claire's voice was heartbreaking.  
  
Charlie set her sandwich down and twisted in her chair, craning to try to see the door. "It's not Dean. Dean would just come in."  
  
Sam swallowed his food and cleared his throat. "Hey, if it isn't Dean, it may not be good. Anyone else who knows about this place isn't exactly friendly."  
  
Claire jumped from her chair and rushed the door, opening it hard enough it bounced against the wall with a bang. "Who are you?"  
  
"Familiar question?" Charlie smirked at Sam.  
  
"Yeah," Sam frowned and stood, "but the woman doesn't need to come in the door. She just shows up."  
  
"Oh, I thought she only did that in Heaven." Charlie stood and turned to the door, too, her hand creeping toward her bag and the gun she kept there.  
  
"Why are you all wet?" Claire's voice carried down the hall.  
  
"I just got baptized." It was a child's voice. A very sarcastic child's voice.  
  
"What?" Sam frowned. "Does that sound like a kid to you?"  
  
"Hey," Charlie rapped the table, "just don't say "kiddo" - she might be 18."  
  
"Charlie, Claire is just-"  
  
"Hello." The child, looking to be maybe ten years of age, stood in the archway, sopping wet from head to toe, water pooling on the floor at her feet. Her hair was long and dark, her skin an olive hue. "I was told," she snorted and tossed her soggy hair, "well commanded really - to come here and help you. I'm supposed to decipher something for you."  
  
"Who are you?" Sam crept his fingers toward Charlie's bag and the pistol. "How can you help us decipher - you're a kid?  
  
"Please don't. I'm not a kid. I mean," the short figure waved at her body, "this belongs to a kid, but I've been around."  
  
Sam found the gun and pulled it out of the bag, aiming it at the child.  
  
"Hey, Sam!" Charlie lunged for the pistol, but Sam dodged his hand out of her reach. "Like you just said, it's a kid."  
  
"Yeah, Sam. Hear her out. I had to hear out Dean." Claire stood behind the girl, hands on her hips. "How bad can this be?"  
  
"I know who you are."  
  
"And yet," the child waved her hands again, her head weaving sid to side in mockery, "there are no French fries."  
  
"I should just shoot you now." Sam raised the gun again.  
  
"And who would decipher your book for you? Find the countercurse to save the angel?""  
  
"You can save Cas?" Claire dipped her body around the still-dripping figure, wedging herself between it and the barrel. "Sam, I thought that's what we were waiting for?"  
  
"This is different. She can't be trusted."  
  
"Of course I can. No way am I going back on my word here." The girl crossed her arms and glared at Sam. "Damn it. I mean, I got baptized for crying out loud."  
  
"Sam," a soft voice echoed in his ear and a calm spread over him, "put the gun down. She's here to help. Trust me. She has a soul now. No demon in her."  
  
Sam turned to the woman. This time, she was dressed in a white denim miniskirt, white tee and white high-heeled boots.  
  
"How is she supposed to help?"  
  
"She's the witch that wrote that book." The woman strode to the table and picked up the untranslatable text. "Who better to transcribe it into English?"  
  
"Ruby wrote that book?" Sam stared at the ancient pages, brittle and flaking with time. "It predates Christ."  
  
"I told you I lived a long time ago, Sam." The child - now positively identified as Ruby - dropped her hands. "I spent a lot of time in Hell. I would have done anything to get out of there. Even help Lucifer."  
  
"And you did."  
  
"Yes, I did."  
  
"Give it a rest, Sam." Dean's voice had everyone but the woman in white spinning toward to the door. "I did whatever it took to make it easier. And I wasn't down there nearly as long as she was."  
  
"You're defending her?"  
  
"We need the help, Sammy. And if she," Dean nodded toward the woman in white, now sipping a cup of tea from thin air, "says we can trust her, I say we trust her."  
  
Ruby shot a wary glance at Dean, edging away from him and toward Claire.  
  
"What's your problem with Dean?" Claire slapped Ruby on the shoulder, stopping her encroachment.  
  
"He stabbed me."  
  
"Huh." Claire snickered. "That seems to be his thing."  
  
"Not anymore it isn't. He's free of the mark now. More or less." The woman took a long sip of tea and smiled. "After all, that's why you're all here.


	5. Countercursing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to get to cast the counterspell. Can the team hold it together and make it work?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Claire's not sure about the knife.

"So," Charlie stared at the little girl across the table, now dry, with her long hair in a neat braid, eating French fries with the mysteriously appearing tea, "you're a witch that lived a long time ago?"  
  
"Yup." The girl scribbled in pencil on a piece of paper. "Centuries ago."  
  
"And you went to hell?"  
  
The girl looked up from her work, licking salty lips. "Most witches go to hell. The lure of dark magic is too much and we cave in."  
  
"Dark magic?" Charlie took a sit of her own tea; it was a light chamomile with orange and honey. Earlier, it had tasted like Earl Grey with raspberry and agave.  
  
Nodding, the girl wrote something else on the paper. "White magic doesn't get you much. Maybe a few coins, but the real money comes from the dark stuff."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Charlie went back to the history text she was translating.  
  
"There." Mini-Ruby sat back on her heels, a satisfied smile gracing her lips. She held up the paper. "This is the counterspell."  
  
Someone from behind grabbed it out of her hand, the bottom corner tearing, the stub remaining in her fingers.  
  
"That was rude, Sam."  
  
Sam ignored her and paced the room. "There's an awful lot of stuff on this list."  
  
"I'm sorry. I can't make it shorter." Sarcasm pooled on the floor beneath the mini-Ruby's chair. "We kinda have to follow the spell to make it work right."  
  
Making a face at the girl, Sam stopped walking and read down the list. "How are we going to fin 'kin blood'? He's an angel."  
  
"I'm related." Claire stepped up to the table, setting a platter of still-warm brownies on the cluttered surface.  
  
"But you're not, not really." Sam looked at her over the edge of the paper.  
  
"Why do you think you're related to the angel?" Mini-Ruby selected a brownie and took a bite, sighing when the chocolate hit her tongue.  
  
"Well, I'm really related to his body, since it once belonged to my dad, Jimmy Novak." Claire sat at the table, choosing one of the brownies for herself. Her voice dipped lower, getting rusty. "My blood would be like his blood, right?"  
  
"It should be." Charlie pulled a large tome close and flipped to a post-it note marked page. "Essentially, when an angel possesses a human, nothing about their body changes, it's just their essence and grace filling the 'empty spaces'."  
  
"What's an empty space?" Ruby asked around a bite of chocolate.  
  
Charlie shrugged. "I don't know. That part is harder to translate. The empty space is really just a guess at the words."  
  
"So," Claire rapped the table, "my blood should do the trick, right?"  
  
"Yup. Best chance we have. Unless there's and angel that can give us angel blood." Ruby chased the brownie with another French fry dipped in ketchup-mayo mix.  
  
"Um. I don't think that's going to happen. What else do we need?" Charlie pushed the book away and rested her elbows on the table.  
  
Sam read over the list. "We have something silver in the cabinet, we can get a piece of his hair - we should be able to get close enough - I can call someone about the herbs, we have a wooden bowl and sacrament oil." He squinted at the page. "An item of power that he respects?"  
  
Ruby shrugged. "Respects. Fears. One or the other. That's how the spell works. We need something like that."  
  
"Where are we going to find something of power?" Sam frowned and threw the paper down on the table. "This isn't going to work. It was a waste to bring you here, Ruby."  
  
"Now Sam," that gentle voice filled the room, tripping into the darkest corners, "she's doing exactly what you need her to do. She can't help how the spell works."  
  
Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Still..."  
  
"Maybe Dean can help with that last item. Why don't you call about the herbs? He should be back soon." The woman drifted along the table.  
  
Grunting, Sam stormed off to grab his cell and make the call. "it was still a waste to get her."  
  
Mini-Ruby crossed her eyes at Sam's back and stuck out her tongue.  
  
"That's not helping, either." The woman set a hand on Ruby's shoulder, patting slowly.  
  
Shrugging her hand off, Mini-Ruby picked up another brownie.  
  
Charlie pulled the paper close to read over the items herself. "Sam said there was something silver in the cabinet, and we need a bowl and sacrament oil. We could start getting this all together, just to make sure we have it all."  
  
"Good idea." Claire jumped up and strode to one of the tall cabinets. "I'll look for a wooden bowl and something silver. I don't think I'd recognize sacrament oil if it bit me."  
  
"Not sure I would either." Paper in hand, Charlie moved to another cabinet and started searching through its contents. "I don't suppose it will have a label?"  
  
"Not if the Winchesters are the ones who put it in the cabinet." Mini-Ruby pushed her chair back and climbed down from where she'd been kneeling on it. "It should be in a dark bottle or ceramic jug - something that wouldn't let the light in. Light makes it go rancid."  
  
"Like this?"Charlie held out a small ceramic vial with a milky glass stopper.  
  
Mini-Ruby held out a hand, chanting something under her breath, then gently touched it with her finger. She snatched her finger back, sticking the end in her mouth like it was burned. "Yup. That's sacrament oil."  
  
Soon, they had all the items, except the herbs, hair, blood and item of power assembled at the table.  
  
looking over the setup, mini-Ruby sighed and cocked her head, looking for all the world like a kid reviewing an elementary-school science project. "We'll need an unused chopstick, too."  
  
"Chopstick?" Charlie stared.  
  
"Yeah. Closest thing to an ancient stirring stick made today."  
  
"Huh." Claire ran a finger over the edge of the silver plate. "Do you think we should polish this?"  
  
"Um, no." Ruby brushed Claire's finger away from the silver. "The polish would contaminate the spell."  
  
"Hey, dudes. Any luck?" Dean's grin meant he'd had luck.  
  
"Yes. We have the counterspell. Do you have Crowley?"  
  
"Not exactly, but I know where he is. And I'm pretty sure Amara is with him."  
  
"Good." Sam came in, his hair windblown and his cheeks flushed. He threw a bundle of herb son the table. "Go grab a hair off Cas' head."  
  
"A hair?" Dean looked over the collected objects on the table.  
  
"Yeah. We need one of his hairs for the spell."  
  
"Okay, be right back." Dean swaggered off toward the cell where they'd put Cas.  
  
Sam smirked. "He's in too good a mood."  
  
"You want him pissed off?" Mini-Ruby picked up the bundle of herbs and separated them, pulling the leaves of one, breaking the stems of another. She placed them all in neat little piles.  
  
"Well, no, I guess not." Sam shifted on his feet and stared at the piles of separated herbs. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"  
  
The little girl didn't bother answering, just glared. When Sam turned around and began pacing, she looked at Claire. "Are you ready to give some blood?"  
  
Claire nodded, swallowing hard. "How much do I need to give?"  
  
Shrugging, mini-Ruby set the bowl in the center of the table, laying the unused chopstick they'd found in a drawer in the kitchen across its diameter. "How much can you give?"  
  
"Isn't there a set amount for the spell?" Claire held her arms close, hugging herself tight.  
  
"No. We start with your blood. The more blood, the stronger the spell. The stronger the spell, the better it will work." She looked up at Claire and nodded at her arm.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Claire held out her arm, squeezing her eyes shut.  
  
"Sam?" Ruby nodded at Sam. "Get a knife and go ahead."  
  
Sam let out a long pent up breath. "I wish you were a little more concerned about this part."  
  
"I need to stay focused. Concern could cloud my judgment and then the spell won't work and we'll have to do it again."  
  
"Oh, I don't think I could do this again." Claire eyes the sharp paring knife Sam had in his hand.  
  
Nodding, Sam swallowed and gesture with the knife at Claire's outstretched arm. "I'm sorry, Claire. This is going to hurt."  
  
Claire nodded, her hair flying around her head with the vehemence of it. "I figured. Take a lot, okay? I really don't want to have to do this again."  
  
Holding her hand steady, Sam pulled her wrist over the bowl, and gritting his teeth, made a single smooth cut over her forearm.  
  
Sucking in a sharp breath, Claire tugged on her arm. Sam released it, grabbing up a towel to press over the seeping wound.  
  
Pale, Charlie jumped from her chair. "I'll go get the first aid kit."  
  
"Not bad." Mini-Ruby nodded over the bowl and sprinkled the herbs into the thick liquid, using the chopstick to stir. She chanted words over the bowl and a single plume of smoke rose. Next, she let two drop of sacrament oil drip in, chanting more, and waited for the second plume.  
  
Dean came back in, scratches on his cheek and one arm. He held out the hair.  
  
Mini-Ruby snatched it, speaking ancient words over it before dropping it into the bowl.  
  
More smoke rose. She stirred it again, then picked up the bowl and poured the mix over the silver plate.  
  
"Is it working?"  
  
They all stared at the plate. There was no smoke. There was no spark or flame.  
  
Ruby frowned, then snapped her fingers.  
  
"We forgot the item of power."  
  
"Item of power? What the heck is that?" Dean reared back.  
  
"You mean I'm going to have to bleed again?" Claire clutched the stained cloth on her arm.  
  
Charlie stood behind the teen, the classic red bag of bandages pressed to her chest. She darted around Sam, smacking Dean on his arm. "The woman said you could help with that."  
  
"She did? So why are you only telling me now?" Dean threw h is hands up and slapped them to the table, staring at the congealing mess. The amulet around his neck fell out of his open collor and swung out.  
  
The mixture fizzed and smoke rose. A blue light glowed, first at the edges then brightening as it moved to the center.  
  
"Please tell me that means it's working." Claire looked from Sam to Dean to mini-Ruby.  
  
Grinning, the little girl nodded. "It's working. It's working very well."  
  
"Hi, guys."  
  
Everyone spun at the voice. Cas stood behind them, eyes clear, face pale but calm.  
  
"Oh, yeah. It worked." Mini-Ruby grinned and held her hand up for a high five. Charlie obliged, offering her own grin to the group. Claire laughed weakly and set her arm on the table.  
  
"Ooh, let me help with that." Charlie skipped around the table and pulled out a spool of gauze, taking the towel off the wound to take a look. "Nice and clean. Good."  
  
"Well, duh." Sam held up the bloody kitchen knife.  
  
"What are you doing?" Casfrowned at the knife, the blood and Claire's injured arm. He wandered closer, moving like he was tired, but that was it. There was no frenetic jerking, no sweat, no seeming battle with himself.  
  
"We worked the counterspell." Dean pointed to the now fading blue glow on the table.  
  
"How? You needed a witch to translate the spell and tell us which one was the antidote." Cas looked from one to the other, frowning at Charlie, then even harder at the girl he didn't recognize.  
  
"Well," Sam pointed to mini-Ruby, "the woman brought us the witch that wrote the codex, and also Charlie and Claire to help.  
  
Cas gasped and pushed Sam out of the way. Sam staggered back and had to catch himself before he hit the floor.  
  
"What happened? You're bleeding!" Cas grabbed Claire's arm, pulling the gauze aside to look at the neat cut.  
  
"We needed my blood for the spell." Claire tugged on her arm.  
  
Cas tugged back, taking a finger to run over the cut. A white glow lingered over the cut, and then it was gone.  
  
"Oh, thanks." Claire ran her own finger over the healed flesh. "I forgot you can do that sort of thing."  
  
"Yeah. I can do that sort of thing." Cas looked at the table. "Thanks, I guess."  
  
Charlie tossed the rest of the first aid kit on the table and rolled her eyes.  
  
"You don't remember, do you?" Dean crossed his arms over his chest.  
  
"Not really."  
  
"Well then, let me tell you a story."  
  
"Wait," Cas raised a hand, "Charlie should be in Heaven."  
  
"Yes, well," Charlie ran her fingers though her hair, pushing it back from her face, "the woman said-"  
  
"Woman? What woman?"  
  
"The woman that brought me here, too. Made me get baptized. She drives a hard bargain, I'll tell you."  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
"Even you don't recognize me?" Mini-Ruby stared at Cas.  
  
"You're a child. Why would I recognize you?"  
  
"I told you, Ruby. That's a brand new soul you're sporting. No one will recognize it."  
  
Everyone turned at the voice, Cas' face growing even paler than it had been.  
  
"You?"  
  
"Yes, Castiel. Me."


	6. Queen Witchy-Witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rowena gets what she thinks she deserves.

Rowena stroked a hand over her prize - the book of spells she'd cheated out of the Winchesters. It was an amazing book. It contained spells even she had never heard of. Powerful magic that would make her the most powerful witch ever.  
  
"Ahem."  
  
The voice came from behind her - which was impossible. The door was in front of her, and the room didn't have a window. It was the most secure room in the building. That's why she chose it.  
  
Whirling, palm out, ready to cast a spell, she confronted the intruder. "Who are you?"  
  
"My name doesn't matter. Not to you anyway." The woman laughed. She was young, and dressed in a cream-colored cotton dress that hung to her ankles, gold leather ballerina flats peeking out from beneath the lace of the hem.  
  
"You're correct." She flung the spell at the woman, crowing inside that there was no way the woman would be able to defend herself.  
  
The spell veered toward the wall, the stone crumbling to dust under its power.  
  
"That is no way to treat a guest." The woman raised a brow and stepped forward. "Not exactly a warm welcome there, Rowena."  
  
"You know who I am but you won't give me your name." Rowena raised a chin, doing her best to look down at the other woman. A haughty attitude had served her very well in the past.  
  
"You chose not to know me a long time ago. Not my fault. Yours." The woman took a breath and looked around. "Love the decor - not."  
  
The room was curved, the stone walls bare except for a couple of old tapestries that held a certain magic of their own. Then there was her bed, a heavy four-poster covered with purple linens. The table, behind her and holding the still-open spell book, and a couple of chairs were the only other furnishings.  
  
"I'm not into frou frou."  
  
"No?" The woman advanced, peering around Rowena's form to look at the book on the table. "Could have fooled me. Especially the way you pushed your son into being a bad-ass King of Hell."  
  
"Well, he failed miserably at that. I was just trying to keep him in power."  
  
"Because there was power in being the mother of the King of Hell?" The woman cocked her head to the side, a small smile playing over her lips. "You like power, don't you Rowena."  
  
"Doesn't everyone?"  
  
The woman laughed again, and for just a moment, Rowena's eyesight blurred and the room smelled of a meadow after a light rain - fresh and clean and pure.  
  
Rowena shook her head, clearing her sight. She narrowed her eyes and snarled.  
  
Raising a brow, the woman strolled further around the room. "True. But there is a certain amount of responsibility that comes with it. Some can't handle that."  
  
"I can."  
  
"Can you?" The woman eased around the table, letting her fingers brush its surface, daringly close to the open book.  
  
Rowena held her breath. Was that what she was after?  
  
But the woman kept walking, her fingers leaving the table - and the book - alone.  
  
"Of course. Responsibility is nothing if you have the power to enforce your rules."  
  
"And you have rules, Rowena? What are they?" The woman stopped and turned back, placing one hand on her hip. "What rules do you follow?"  
  
"My rules."  
  
The woman sighed and shook her head. "Are you playing obtuse on purpose? I want you to state your rules, witch."  
  
"Whatever is best for me, that is the rule."  
  
"Ah. That's why you were willing to sell your son. Why you didn't care what happened to him. Whether he lived or died or was tortured for all eternity."  
  
"Freedom is very important to me. I wanted my freedom."  
  
The woman's smile grew. "Which is more important Rowena? Power or freedom?"  
  
"Power, of course. With power, you can make your own freedom."  
  
"I have a deal for you then."  
  
"A deal?" Rowena wasn't sure she liked the sound of a deal. Fergus had dealt deals, trading favors for souls. Of course, her soul was hardly worth much to a demon. She was bound for hell anyway.  
  
"Hell is without leadership at the moment."  
  
"Without leadership? What happened to Fergus?"  
  
The woman lifted a brow. "Concerned for his welfare?"  
  
"Of course not. Just surprised he made such a muck of it. I'm almost certain he was able to survive that angel's attack. He may not be much of a King of Hell, but he's turned out to be a pretty powerful demon."  
  
"Yes, he is. But all you need to know is that he is no longer acting as the King of Hell. So, there's a, shall we say, job opening available." The woman smiled, like she already knew Rowena's answer.  
  
"Are you suggesting I become Queen of Hell?"  
  
The woman shrugged. "A woman ran things before. Why not again? You could make Hell hellish again."  
  
"I could. Fergus was soft. Make no mistake, I won't be soft."  
  
"Of course not."  
  
"But most deals have something gained on both sides. What do you get out of it?"  
  
"Well," the woman swayed on her feet, "there is a downside. You'd have to stay in hell."  
  
Rowena looked the woman up and down. She didn't look like much, even though she'd deflected the aging spell. It should be easy enough to break whatever bond would hold her in hell.  
  
"I think I can handle that."  
  
"For certain? There's no backing out once the deal is made."  
  
"I am certain."  
  
"Very well then." The woman snapped her fingers and they were there, at the portal to hell, heat blasting through the orange flames from the other side.  
  
"But, my things-"  
  
"Everything you need is right through there." The woman pointed.  
  
Rowena took a step back. The spell book was still on the table. Her own archives of magic were there too. "But-"  
  
"I said there was no backing out."  
  
"But-"  
  
The woman pushed and Rowena was sucked through the portal. On the other side, a demon waited.  
  
He bowed. "My queen."  
  
That sounded lovely. Rowena smiled. She'd just make certain of her position, then head back to her room to retrieve her things.  
  
"There's no going back." The demon straightened and indicated she precede him to the throne room. "The deal must stand as it is."  
  
"But I'm Queen."  
  
"Of Hell, yes." The demon bowed again. "But the woman with whom you made the deal is of a greater realm, and her word must stand."  
  
"But-" Rowena stepped toward the still-cracked portal, the lush green of trees and grass just visible through it. As soon as she moved, it snuffed shut, whiffs of green-tinged sulfur snaking toward her nose. "Damn."  
  
It might be closed to her for now, but she'd find a way. No way was that woman more powerful that she. And when they met up again, Rowena would show her just what kind of magic she could wield.

On the other side of the door, the woman lost her smile, her eyes growing stony and glowing with a hard flame. "Sons are not to be traded and killed for your own sake, witch." Sorrow replaced the flame in her eyes and tears traced her cheeks.  
  
"Their lives are far too precious to be squandered like that."  
  
After a moment, she swiped away the wet and smirked. "You'll find Hell isn't the paradise you expect, witch." Then she laughed and was gone.


	7. Death becomes Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's going to be a new Death in town.

Crowley scowled at the TV. The movie was over already. What was it about porn? He could watch it all day now and get no satisfaction.  
  
He tossed the remnants of his scotch on the rocks at the credits rolling up the otherwise black screen.  
  
"Fergus. You've been a bad boy."  
  
He jumped. Only his mother called him that. And that bitch would die if she- he stilled, staring at the vision before him. Dressed in white leather and stilettos, long hair gleaming in the throbbing neon that crept through the window, stood a woman who reeked of both innocence and sensuality.  
  
"Well, hello. Come to play?" He let a slow smile grace his lips and patted the disheveled blankets on the bed.  
  
"Not exactly. I've come with a proposition."  
  
"Sounds all the same to me." He leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head and crossing his ankles.  
  
The woman smiled but kept her distance. The next movie started on the TV, the panting groans of a nubile beauty filling the room. Crowley grinned, expecting the woman to blush or get uncomfortable.  
  
The woman sighed, and in a heartbeat, the sound of chanting monks replaced the groans and the high-definition picture. "Really, don't you have something better to do with your time?"  
  
"I could be out killing people." Crowley stood, keeping an eye on the woman he suddenly realized could be a threat - even if it wasn't his mother.  
  
"Don't make me rethink my proposition, Fergus."  
  
"How do you know my real name?" He'd gone by Crowley for so long; it was one way he'd recognized his mother. She'd known his name.  
  
"Would you prefer Rumplestiltskin?" The woman crossed her arms and cocked a hip. "Quit thinking about your mother for a moment and concentrate on my proposition."  
  
"Right, right. Concentrating." Crowley smiled and considered his next move. He was a powerful demon, surely he could-  
  
"It doesn't matter how powerful a demon you are. I'm more powerful. I won't tell you to listen again."  
  
Crowley snapped to attention. The damn female could read his mind! What the-  
  
"Please, I don't appreciate swearing. There's a commandment about that, you know. Weren't you raised Catholic?"  
  
Tipping back his head, Crowley cleared all thoughts from his mind. No way did he want this one finding out his plans for tomorrow.  
  
"Yes, well, about tomorrow..." The woman narrowed her eyes. "I have a job for you."  
  
"A job?" Crowley smirked. Now this was more like it. "I'm a master at making deals."  
  
"There will be no deal. This is a permanent job. More of a career switch, if you will."  
  
"Career switch? You do realize I'm a demon, yes?"  
  
"Of course I know you're a demon - now. I also know you were born in Scotland to the witch Rowena who subsequently abandoned you to your own devices. More years ago than you want to remember."  
  
Crowley scowled again. He wanted to go back to watching the bad porn.  
  
"Give the sex shows a rest, will you? This is important."  
  
"Important? You may have the wrong bloke then."  
  
"I don't think so. I've been paying attention to the changes you were making in Hell. That took a lot of work. A lot of planning and a certain sense of fairness. Not exactly something in large supply down there."  
  
She knew about Hell? "Who are you?"  
  
The woman smiled. "I don't expect you to recognize me. Nor do I intend to tell you who I am." She cocked her head to the side. "Where's the baby?"  
  
"If you mean the wailing toddler," why bother trying to hide anything about Amara - the woman likely already knew everything, "I hired a babysitter so I could have a little me-time."  
  
"Me-time? A date with a TV in a grimy hotel?"  
  
"I like the ambiance. It suits my current mood."  
  
"You're depressed?" The woman rolled her eyes and groaned.  
  
Crowley stared at the length of her neck. She really was beautiful. Maybe if he...  
  
"Not a chance demon, in Hell or anywhere else. Where's the toddler?"  
  
"I told you - with the babysitter."  
  
"Human babysitter? Or demon?"  
  
Crowley laughed and stretched. "You don't know?"  
  
The woman stared and he thought, maybe, her eyes glowed gold.  
  
"You left her with a human? If Amara feeds, who knows what might happen?"  
  
"I fed her before I hired the old woman."  
  
"That might not have been enough. It never is." The woman scrubbed over her eyes. "Luci's balls, take one little nap and the universe turns from order to chaos."  
  
"The universe?" Just how powerful was this kid?  
  
"When grown, she will be far more powerful than you. And the more she feeds. the more she will grow. Where is she, Fergus?" The woman snapped her fingers. "Ah - that's why you're here. She's at the Wilmington Inn."  
  
"Wha-? How?"  
  
The woman raised her brows.  
  
"Right. You can read minds."  
  
The woman waved his comment aside. "Listen. It seems we need to hurry. Dean Winchester destroyed Death instead of his brother before your witch of a mother finally set the spell to reverse the curse of the mark of Cain."  
  
Growling, Crowley turned his back on the woman, scrubbing his hands over his face. Why was it always about Dean?  
  
"Pay attention." The woman was in front of him? How? She wagged a finger at his face. "Death is a necessary entity. Without Death, souls can't make their way to their afterlife - whether up or down."  
  
"Okay, sure." Crowley took a step back, beginning to worry about just who - or what - this woman was.  
  
"I want you to take his place."  
  
"You want me to become Death?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I don't think it's that easy."  
  
"All you need is Death's ring."  
  
"And how do you propose I get that?"  
  
The woman held out her hand, palm up, a single tarnished ring centered upon it. "You don't have to get it. I just have to give it to you."  
  
Crowley stared at the ring. How on earth could the woman have gotten it? If Death was dead at Dean's hand - damn that was a lot of 'd's - maybe he should take a stab at writing, like that Metatron character - the Winchesters would have picked it up, wouldn't they? They were too smart to leave something like that behind. "How did you get that?"  
  
"Do you really care?"  
  
Arching a brow, Crowley considered her question, before shrugging and shaking his head. "I guess not."  
  
"I mean, you already wear black." She flapped her fingers at his rumpled suit.  
  
Crowley looked down at his outfit. It did look good on him, other than the wrinkles. All it needed was a good ironing. "Well, yeah."  
  
"And it would allow you to exercise that sense of fair play, of justice, that you can't seem to get rid of, no matter how hard you try."  
  
He snorted. What did she know about his sense of fair play? He'd cheated more souls than any other crossroads demon. He was a master of the scam. Look at how he'd tricked Dean into becoming his best friend.  
  
"You'll also be damn-near indestructible."  
  
"As long as there's no all-powerful blade hanging around, eh?"  
  
the woman raised her brows and those eyes glowed once more. "What if I told you it wasn't the blade?"  
  
"What. the Death wasn't nearly indestructible was he?"  
  
"He took a gamble and lost. No other man could have killed him."  
  
What? Crowley stared. "But-"  
  
"No buts. You want the job or not?"  
  
Crowley tried to think about what she'd said about the blade and Dean. Surely there was something in there he could use. Something to figure out that would gain him an advantage.  
  
The woman's eyes glowed brighter, whiter.  
  
His head started to ache, like he'd drunk too much bad mead. Sighing, he pushed his thoughts aside and the ache eased. He was done with the Winchesters. He had Amara. He was back to bad.  
  
"Really? Watching porn and getting drunk is your idea of being bad? Kidnapping a baby that feeds on the light?"  
  
"Get out of my head, witch!" Light? Amara fed on light? Maybe he could get more information from this woman. His headache came back.  
  
"I told you, I'm not a witch." The woman smirked. "And I'm not going to let you know anything else. You want the job or not?"  
  
"What about Hell?" He rubbed over his temples, trying to push away the pain.  
  
"I've got plans for Hell, don't you worry. I'm installing a new mistress."  
  
Ah - so that was it. This was a ploy to get him out of the way so she could take over the hellhole that was Hell.  
  
"Trust me, I have no intention of taking over Hell." The woman laughed. "Not really my thing. Though I will make sure it is restored to its former gory. After all, it isn't really Hell if it's all fair and even, eh?"  
  
"People were still punished."  
  
"Were they? Really? There's supposed to be wailing and gnashing of teeth. Blood. Torture. Souls are supposed to wish they were somewhere else - like Heaven. Or even back here on Earth."  
  
"Well-"  
  
"Look, Fergus, do you want the job or not? You wouldn't have to worry about enemies coming after you. Not like you do now. Reapers are pretty easy-going at heart. As long as they can do their jobs, they're happy, malleable. And you can still do all that fancy magic-shmagic crap you like to do."  
  
There was that. Crowley eyed the ring. Was there a downside? He snickered. Didn't matter - the upside outweighed anything else: he could watch his mother die. Could even prolong it when the time came.  
  
He reached out and plucked the thin cold ring from the woman's palm. "I'm in."  
  
"Very good. Put it on."  
  
Crowley slid the ring onto the third finger of this left hand. It fit like it was meant for him. He smiled at it, spinning it around. "I can still eat and drink right?"  
  
He looked up, but the woman was gone. He sniffed the air, searching for a hint of sulfur. There was nothing. Well, maybe the faint scent of quince blossoms.  
  
Someone rapped on the door. He stalked to the peephole, looking out to see what his gut told him was a reaper. He opened the door.  
  
"My lord." The reaper bowed. "You need to address your reapers."  
  
Yes, indeed. This could be what he needed. Followers that wouldn't question him, wouldn't try to change him. Crowley grinned and nodded for the reaper to lead the way.


	8. Text

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They've got a lock on Amara; it's time to roll out and get ready. But what, exactly, are they getting ready for? (Almost done - I promise. Just taking a little longer than expected.)

Dean's phone dinged. He glanced at the screen.  
  
AMARA. WILMINGTON INN. ROOM 203.  
  
He sat up, yelping in glee. "Let's go, Sammy! Cas! We got a lock on Amara!"  
  
"What?" Sam looked up from the heavy book he was reading. "Crowley finally reply to your texts?"  
  
Frowning at his phone, Dean shook his head. "No. Not Crowley. Not sure where it came from."  
  
"Then how do we know it's true?"  
  
"My gut." Dean stood up and snatched his jacket from the back of a chair. "We need to get a move on, though. The next text says she's being watched by an old woman."  
  
"By a woman?" Sam caught the urgency and slammed the book shut, standing and grabbing his own jacket.  
  
"Where are you going?" Charlie emerged from between the shelves, a stack of books balanced precariously in her arms. Claire followed, an equally high stack of books in front her, blocking her view so that she bumped into Charlie, knocking both of them off kilter so that the books went flying.  
  
"Ooh. Sorry. Why'd you stop?" Claire brushed a bit of long hair back from her face.  
  
"They know something." Charlie jerked her head at the brothers.  
  
"What?" Claire stepped forward. "Why do you have your coats?"  
  
"Dean knows where Amara is. She's with an old woman, so we have to hurry before she - well, she does whatever it is she does."  
  
"I should go with you." Charlie grabbed her purse and slung it over her shoulder and neck.  
  
"Why?" Dean didn't want anything happening to Charlie - again!  
  
"Because Amara can't hurt her."  
  
Everyone spun at the voice. The woman stood, her white dress falling straight from her shoulders to her ankles.  
  
"What do you mean, Amara can't hurt her?" Dean frowned at the woman then glanced at Charlie.  
  
"Charlie has already made her way to Heaven. Her light is assured. There is no way for Amara to drain it from her."  
  
"Light?" Sam reached for his book. There had been something in there. What page?  
  
Cas emerged from the kitchen, a chocolate glazed doughnut in one hand. "So, Amara is a child of the Darkness?"  
  
"Yes. I am surprised you hadn't determined that on your own." The woman frowned at the sweet in his hand.  
  
"I was a little out of sorts." Cas eyed the doughnut before setting it down and wiping his fingers on his pants.  
  
"Are you better now?" The woman waved a hand and the tea set appeared.  
  
Cas stared at the silver service. "I could use a little something. He selected a plain cookie, placing it on his tongue, before pouring a cup of tea and draining the cup. "Thank you."  
  
"You're welcome. We must hurry. We are running out of time for the babysitter."  
  
"Babysitter?" Claire edged toward the door. No way was she being left behind.  
  
"You aren't going, Claire." Cas pointed at a chair.  
  
Before Claire could protest, the woman raised a hand. "Of course she is coming. You are all coming. Well, everyone except the little one."  
  
"Hey!" Ruby jumped to stand on tip toe, stretching as tall as she could. "It's not like I'm a real kid."  
  
"Your memories are old, but that's a brand new soul you've got. That's something Amara wouldn't be able to resist. I won't risk it."  
  
"Shouldn't that be my choice?" Ruby flopped into her chair, pouting.  
  
"Not this time." The woman looked stern, and though Ruby continued to pout, it made no difference.  
  
Claire grinned and relaxed her stance, but didn't move from her position closer to the door. "Sorry, Ruby. But you are in a kid's body."  
  
"Pphffbbt."  
  
The woman raised her brows but did not respond to the rude noise. "You'll all be needed in the end. Why do you think I got you all together?"  
  
"So, what do we do?" Dean was grabbing guns and holy water and crosses and tossing them into a duffel.  
  
Sam sorted through books, tossing a couple to Dean to put in the bag before turning to the woman. "Yeah, since you got us all together."  
  
The woman raised her chin. "Claire needs to grab the babysitter and get her out. Charlie can help her, falling back if Amara pursues. A distraction, so to speak. Dean needs to confront Amara - I suspect she's even older than a toddler by now. She's been feeding a lot lately."  
  
"Who takes care of Crowley? Me?" Cas eyes his abandoned doughnut.  
  
"I've taken care of Crowley. He's the new Death."  
  
"What?" Dean stood up from where he'd been crouched over the amassed gear. "How did that happen?"  
  
"I gave him Death's ring."  
  
Sam and Dean stared at each other before Sam sprinted to a small locked box on the shelf, grabbing the key from its hidey-hole and unlocking it. He snapped up the lid. "It's gone." He showed them the empty box.  
  
"You stole Death's ring?" Dean pointed at the box.  
  
"Of course not. I didn't have to steal it. And technically, it's my ring. I can give it to whomever I want."  
  
"Your ring?" Cas' voice squeaked and his eyes got wide.  
  
"Yes." The woman stared at Cas.  
  
"So you really are-" He cut off his words and crossed himself.  
  
The woman laughed. "Ah, Cas. You always did have an appreciable sense of humor."  
  
Cas nodded, pale. He looked like he might faint.  
  
"Easy Cas, think it through."  
  
"You can't confront Amara if she's a child of the dark. If you get too close to the darkness..." This time, he let his voice trail off.  
  
"You are correct." The woman glanced at Dean. "Which is why it is better that the child of the light confront her."  
  
"But, there was only one-" Cas choked. "You mean?"  
  
"Yes." The woman's tone turned solemn.  
  
"Will he have to," Cas swallowed, "you know." He waved his arms around his head, unable to fully vocalize his question.  
  
"I don't know, Cas. That is why you and Sam have to be there to help him. You with the "special" stuff, and Sam with the "regular" stuff."  
  
Sam's head whipped back and forth between the woman and Dean. "You mean Dean is this child of light?" His snicker turned half-snort.  
  
"Hey." Dean smacked his brother on the arm. "What do you mean special and regular? And what exactly do you think I won't need to do? And why me?"  
  
"In your deepest heart, Dean, you know why it is you, and you know what I don't think you will have to do, but you must be prepared, just in case."  
  
"In case what?" Sam took a protective step forward.  
  
"In case he has to do what I don't think he'll have to do."  
  
"But," Cas stepped forward, arm outstretched, as if to grab the woman' arm, but not touching her, "you don't think he'll have to?"  
  
The woman smiled and her eyes brightened. "No, Cas, I don't think he'll have to."  
  
"Okay," Sam spoke up, another step closer to his brother, "but what's this special and regular stuff?"  
  
"Special is heavenly stuff - don't worry, Cas is an expert in that - and regular is earthly stuff - like that he is your brother."  
  
"Dean is going to need heavenly help?" Sam frowned. "Why not just have Cas do it?"  
  
The woman sighed. "Honestly, when the time comes, I don't think Dean will need help, but you and Cas will be there for backup. Reminders, if you will. And Cas, well, no angel has enough light to defeat the darkness. Not even all of them together."  
  
There was silence for a moment, and then... "And where will you be?" Charlie crossed her arms.  
  
"I cannot be there with you." The woman turned away, her shoulders drooping. "It is too dangerous if I get too close to Amara."  
  
"Why?" Charlie didn't drop her arms, but tightened them closer, hugging herself."  
  
"Because if the true light and the true darkness meet - it would be the end of the universe."  
  
Cas cleared his throat. "You think Amara is the true darkness?"  
  
"Not yet, but I cannot take the chance. The darkness is outside my sight. I cannot see where it is, what it is doing, what it will do. It is the only unknown to me."  
  
Nodding, Cas took a deep breath. "We should get going. Like she said, we are running out of time."


	10. Finding Amara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hotel isn't going to happen. But they get lucky.

It was an expensive hotel. A valet in uniform stood at the door waiting to take the next car, a similarly dressed usher standing to open the wide, gilded glass doors.  
  
Dean let out a low whistle from Baby's driver seat.  
  
Sam slumped next to him, shaking his head. "How are we going to get in there?"  
  
"A back door?" Claire spoke from the back, sandwiched between Charlie, who sat behind Dean, and Cas. "Like through the kitchens?"  
  
"You've watched too many movies, kid. Besides, this kind of hotel has doormen for every door." Charlie banged her head against the back of Dean's seat. "We're doomed."  
  
"We aren't doomed. We have a room number." Sam turned back to the three in the seat. "We just need to walk in like we belong."  
  
"Right." Dean ran his gaze over Sam's baggy jeans and wrinkled shirt. "We are not going to look like we belong in this hotel."  
  
"Wait, look." Cas jerked up and nodded toward the door.  
  
A teen girl, in a flowing maroon dress, was being dragged from the hotel by an older woman. The girl didn't look happy, and pulled back, but the woman didn't let go. The woman's face was pale, and she looked frightened.  
  
"Hunh." Dean took the car out of park and edged forward, slowly trailing the two women. "Wonder where they're going?"  
  
"Who cares? At least they aren't in the hotel." Sam straightened and braced one hand on the dash. He leaned forward, like he was trying to get closer.  
  
It was good that traffic was heavy, otherwise their slow driving would have caught someone's attention. As it was, they had trouble keeping up.  
  
"Let's just park and follow on foot." Cas put his hand on the lever to open the back door.  
  
"Glad this car has four doors." Charlie did the same, readying to pounce and run.  
  
"Just wait for me to park, okay?" Dean maneuvered the car to the curb and rammed the shifter into park.  
  
Once the car was at the sidewalk, Charlie and Cas jumped out, Claire following Cas. Another car honked at Charlie, and she waved the irate driver off. "C'mon guys."  
  
Dean and Sam got out and joined the others, walking five abreast down the sidewalk.  
  
"We don't have the duffel." Dean's whisper was loud so everyone could hear. "It has the holy water in it."  
  
"We won't need it." Cas walked next to Dean. He jerked his chin at the pair ahead of them. "Look."  
  
The old woman stood looking up at the ancient facade of a church, its spire shooting high above the trees planted on its grounds.  
  
Amara jerked her arm, but the woman was surprisingly strong and dragged the girl up the front steps.  
  
"Charlie and I can go in first and get the woman." Claire jogged ahead, tugging on Charlie's shirt.  
  
"Oh no, you don't." Cas trotted ahead. "I go in first, then you four follow, Sam and Dean first, so Dean can catch Amara's attention, then the two of you to grab the woman, and anyone else in the church, out and to safety."  
  
Claire opened her mouth to argue but closed it when she got a good look at Cas' face. "Fine."  
  
With a sharp nod, Cas marched up the steps, rolling his shirt sleeves up, like he was preparing for hard labor.  
  
Dean and Sam followed, Sam rolling his shoulders, Dean concentrating on the steps, his brow furrowed.  
  
Charlie leaned close to Claire, speaking directly into her ear. "You grab the old woman, I'll try to get anyone else, okay?"  
  
"Why does everyone treat me like a kid?"  
  
"Because you're the youngest of us. You're the closest we have to a kid in the group. Don't take it personally - except maybe from Cas. But, you know, he treats everyone like they're a kid."  
  
"I guess he's pretty old, huh?" They started up the stairs.  
  
"Yeah, I think most angels are."  
  
The interior of the church was cool and the tang of incense brushed their noses. The old woman stood at the front, talking to a priest, while Amara did her best to twist her way out of the woman's grip. Succeeding, she took three steps back and narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth.  
  
"Shit. Make a move!" Dean hissed, darting around Cas and sprinting up the aisle.  
  
"Dean, wait." Cas hissed back, following him at speed.  
  
"There's too many people in here." Sam looked around the wide chapel. "Both of you start getting these folks out of here."  
  
"But I'm supposed to get the old woman." Claire's protest sounded weak.  
  
"I think it's a little late to get her." Charlie pointed to the front.  
  
A white mist escaped the woman and entered Amara, the woman turning pale and all expression dropping from her face. Amara smiled and turned to the priest, the same white mist emitting from his mouth.  
  
Amara threw back her head and laughed, a darkness surrounding her. When it dissipated, she was older - a young woman now.  
  
"Yeah, I'll start with these back rows." Claire tapped the shoulder of the first man in the back row. The man stared at the front, transfixed. "Sir, you need to leave."  
  
The man turned, blinking bleary eyes. "What?"  
  
"You need to leave." Claire grabbed his arm and the trance broke. He jumped from the pew, grabbing his wife's hand in the process and scrambling out the back door.  
  
It was similar on Charlie's side of the chapel, her voice and touch breaking Amara's trance.  
  
The chapel emptied in quick time.  
  
Same stalked forward. "Dean?"  
  
Dean stood quiet, staring up at the stained glass window above the altar. In its center, a representative Jesus lit up, arms outstretched.  
  
"Dean?" Cas took a step forward. He placed a hand on his shoulder. "Do you understand what you have to do?"  
  
Nodding, Dean closed his eyes and spread his own hands out, raising his head to the light streaming through the window. His eyes glowed - similar to how the woman's had earlier.  
  
Cas stepped back, catching Sam before he touched his brother. "We just need to wait."  
  
"Wait? For what?"  
  
"For him to need us - or not."  
  
Amara turned around, the old woman and the priest lying at her feet. "What are you doing?"  
  
Dean didn't answer.  
  
"What are you doing?" Her voice heightened to a shriek.  
  
The glow spread from just his eyes to his face, then down his neck to his torso and arms, and finally down his legs to his feet. He stood, arms spread, light beaming from every pore.  
  
Amara sucked in a breath. "It's like a feast." She opened her mouth and took in the light.  
  
But his light never faded, it only grew more intense. The more Amara sucked in, the more light came out of Dean.  
  
Amara groaned and closed her eyes. She struggled, swaying on her feet. But she couldn't stop taking in the light.  
  
Dean stood, strong, sure. The light bright enough that Sam had to shield his eyes.  
  
"Everyone's out." Charlie stood at the end of the aisle. She'd told Claire to stay outside to keep anyone else from coming in.  
  
Sam turned around. "Good."  
  
"Is that Dean?" She took a tentative step forward. She'd seen light like that before. In heaven, at the gate, where she'd been greeted and welcomed.  
  
"Yeah." Sam walked back to her. "I don't know what he's doing. I don't understand how he's glowing like that, but it seems to be working."  
  
Charlie nodded.  
  
Then the building shook and the lights hanging from the ceiling blinked and went out, leaving only the light that seeped through the windows and Dean.  
  
"What happened?" Charlie grabbed onto Sam to keep on her feet; he did the same to her.  
  
"The darkness is coming." Cas stared at the double doors at the end of the aisle. "Get out of the way."  
  
Sam and Charlie scurried to a corner, huddling together in the shadow.  
  
A dark smoke drifted under the door, getting darker the more that came in, the waft turning into a stream of darkness.  
  
"That can't be good." Charlie whispered.  
  
Sam swallowed and pushed Charlie farther into the corner. That darkness was like the dark that made a demon, the dark that spewed from its human victim when exorcised.  
  
Was the darkness the ultimate demon?  
  
"You don't belong here." Cas' voice cut through the dim silence.  
  
"Neither do you." A woman's voice trilled from the dark cloud at the door.  
  
"This is my Father's house. Why would I not belong?" Cas stood his ground, taking a breath as if expecting a blow.  
  
He was good to prepare. A blast of air and smoke slammed into his chest, knocking him aside and into the end of a pew. Cas staggered upright, squaring himself again against the cloud. "You'll need to do better than that."  
  
"Oh, I will." A figure formed in the smoke, plumes writhing around it.  
  
Sam grabbed the baptismal basin, lifting it and throwing its contents into the fumes.  
  
The entity laughed. "Really, you though holy water would stop me? I'm not a demon."  
  
"All that black fume, reminds me of a demon." Sam stood, empty basic hanging from one hand. "It's like what they are, what they use to possess a human."  
  
The being laughed again. "Ah, humans. Your understanding of the universe is so small. It is not that I emulate a demon, but that they emulate me." The figure stepped from the dark mist, a woman in a black gown, her eyes gleaming black.  
  
Sam swallowed and took a step back.  
  
The church rocked again, and voices, raised in song, drifted in. Someone, lots of someones, singing a hymn.  
  
The woman snorted. "He won't listen to them any more than he listens to me."  
  
"You don't know what you're talking about." Cas' voice rose over the singing.  
  
"Really?" The woman stepped toward Cas. "I've known him a lot longer than even you, pitiful angel." She sent another blast of black in his direction.


	11. The End (Finally)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's turns into a glow worm. Or something...

Outside the voice grew louder and more people joined the crown outside.  
  
Claire stood outside, tears streaming down her face. She'd been able to keep the people out, but she had no idea of the state of anyone inside. And she suspected that awful dark mist that had crept under the door was not a good sign.  
  
A young girl took her hand and smiled up at her. The girl's voice rose in song, the words lisping on her young tongue. "Don't you like to sing?"  
  
Claire shrugged, but didn't let go of the girl's hand. "I don't know the words." She choked and sniffed, rubbing her other sleeve over her nose.  
  
The girl looked up at her for a moment. "Then sing with your heart and just hum along."  
  
Blinking, Claire listened to the tune, trying to hum along with it, bringing to mind images of Cas, Sam, Dean and Charlie, thinking about them with all her being.  
  
Smiling, the girl turned back to the church and joined back in the song.  
  
Claire continued to hum and someone else took her other hand. Glancing to that side, she saw a short dark head, tears streaming down its own cheeks. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Ruby looked up, her eyes revealing her true age. "My part." She hummed along with Claire, squeezing her hand.  
  
Squeezing back, Claire hummed louder, not really caring if she was in tune with anyone else.  
  
Inside, the swell of voices grew. The light emitted from Dean did, too.  
  
And Amara, moaning, fell to the floor, writhing until all movement stopped. Her mouth closed and she no longer took in the light from Dean.  
  
But Dean kept his stance, arms out, head tilted back. He continued glowing, the light reaching everywhere inside the church - even to the darkness at the door.  
  
The darkness churned and grew darker, closing in on itself.  
  
Cas smirked. "Darkness cannot remain where there is but the barest hint of light."  
  
"No, no. This cannot be happening." The woman fell to her knees, gasping. The swirling plumes faded and gathered closer to her. "I am strong. I am going to win this time."  
  
The light coming from Dean only brightened.  
  
The doors to the church burst open and Crowley rushed in, three reapers at his side. "Grab her." He pointed at the cowering figure. "Take her to The Empty."  
  
The three reapers rushed forward, basked a moment in the light, then grabbed the wisping figure and disappeared.  
  
Cas stared at Crowley. "That won't hold her forever."  
  
"No, but I think she'll be stuck there for a while. Long enough for you and yours to figure out how to combat her."  
  
Shrugging, Cas frowned at him. "How's the new job working out?"  
  
"I'm doing quite well." Crowley looked around. "Means I can be in here without fearing I'm going to burst into flames."  
  
Claire and Ruby peeked around the doors. "Is it okay? Did we win?" Claire's voice shook. She stared at Cas.  
  
Cas smiled at her, holding out his arms. "Yeah, we won."  
  
Claire ran in, throwing herself into Cas' arms. So it wasn't really her Dad - it smelled like him and his arms felt like him. As long as she remembered it wasn't really him, she'd be okay.  
  
Charlie crawled from the corner where Sam had put her. "We won, but is Dean okay?" On shaky legs, she pointed to the front of the church where Dean had collapsed, the light no longer coming out of him.  
  
Letting go of Claire, Cas sprinted up the aisle, followed by Sam, Charlie, Crowley, Claire and Ruby. In a circle, they stood above Dean. Swallowing hard, Sam crouched next to his brother and held out a hand, placing two fingers at his neck, searching for a pulse.  
  
There was nothing. Taking a deep breath that caught in his throat, Sam shook his head and closed his eyes.  
  
"Really." The woman's voice was caustic. "What do you take me for, anyway?"  
  
Sam opened his eyes. "What?"  
  
"Stand aside." She pushed Sam away and knelt next to Dean, placing a hand on his cheek and bowing her head. She glowed, and the light flowed from her into Dean.  
  
Dean's eyes fluttered open. "What the-" Seeing the woman, he caught his words and looked around. "We win?"  
  
"Yeah, we won." Cas' voice was raspier than usual and his eyes looked as wet as Sam's.  
  
The woman then knelt next to the priest and did the same, the light flowing from her and into the man's body. Then, once more, for the old woman. Blinking, the two people looked around in silence.  
  
"You won't remember any of this. Which is a shame really. The world could really do with a couple of good miracles right now." The woman stood and smiled down at them. Like a choreographed movement, the priest and the old woman lay down and closed their eyes, asleep. "Best if they wake up in hospital instead of here."  
  
"How did you-?" Sam pointed at the priest then to the woman and to Dean.  
  
"You really haven't figured out who I am?" The woman stood and smiled, the brightness of her smile having nothing to do with true light.  
  
"I know who you are." Ruby's high voice cut in from behind.  
  
"Yes, but you have a bit of an advantage. I did a bit more for you than for the others." The woman smiled. "And a bit more even, perhaps. I'm considering the possibilities."  
  
"I think I know who you are too, and I think it's time I went back to Heaven. I don't have a place here anymore."  
  
The woman looked at Charlie. "If that is what you wish. I'll be shaking things up in Heaven when I go back. Put the original rules back in place."  
  
Charlie smiled, but the movement was weak. "That's probably a good thing."  
  
Dean sat up, holding out a hand for Cas to help him up. "I'm not even going there."  
  
The woman raised a brow. "You will eventually."  
  
"I meant the conversation." Dean wouldn't look at her.  
  
"You are upset with me?"  
  
"No, not really."  
  
"You'll forget, too."  
  
"Why?" Dean glanced at her, only to look away again.  
  
"It will be easier for you that way."  
  
Dean nodded and looked back up at the stained glass figure of Jesus.  
  
"So," the woman looked down at Amara, "what shall I do for you?"  
  
"What can you do for her?" Crowley twisted the ring on his finger. "She'd dead."  
  
The woman nodded. "Yes. But that's not really an issue for me."  
  
"The Darkness used her."  
  
The woman nodded again. "True."  
  
"What is that saying about forgiveness" Dean still looked at the window.  
  
Sighing, the woman knelt next to the body of the young woman. "There is a problem, though. This is only Amara now, a baby. Not a soul really suited for a woman's body. I'm not sure she'll even be able to speak. Let alone walk or stand."  
  
Everyone stared at the young woman's body. It appeared to only be sleeping.  
  
"I," Crowley cleared his throat, "I'll take responsibility for her. It was like I had a daughter for a while."  
  
"Death's daughter." The woman tipped her head and tapped a finger to her chin. "Hmmm. It bears consideration."  
  
Crowley nodded and waited, still twisting the ring on his finger.  
  
"Done." The woman leaned over the girl and made a cross on her forehead with her thumb. The girl's eyes fluttered open and be blinked. "You will have to watch her, teach her, care for her." The woman winked at Crowley. "You might even have to enlist your mother a little. Rowena can't leave Hell, but you can certainly visit."  
  
Smiling, Crowley dropped his hands and held one out to the girl, who looked more like a little girl again. She seemed to shrink as they watched.  
  
"Hey!" They turned at Ruby's yell.  
  
The woman laughed. "I thought you'd appreciate skipping puberty."  
  
Ruby was a child no more, but a young teen, almost a woman.  
  
"Just great. And i suppose she's our responsibility?" Sam looked away.  
  
"Why are we in a church?" Dean looked around. "I thought we were going to find Amara at a hotel?"  
  
"We were," Cas stepped forward and clapped a hand on Dean's shoulder, "and we did. We won."  
  
"We did?"  
  
"Yeah." Cas looked around at everyone. "Let's get home, I think we all need to take a nap."  
  
"I agree." Crowley offered a short bow before he and Amara disappeared.  
  
Charlie rushed forward and hugged Dean. "Bye, guy. Don't miss me too much. And don't feel guilty, okay?"  
  
"Yeah, okay." Dean squeezed her tight before letting go. The woman took Charlie's hand and they were gone.  
  
"So, "Claire shrugged, "I'm hungry. Who wants pie?"  
  
Ruby snickered. "I'll take fries. "  
  
The girls linked arms, whispering and led the way out of the church.  
  
Cas watched them go. "That can't be a good thing."  
  
"What?" Dean punched him on the arm then poked his brother. "Pie is never a bad thing."


End file.
